It's Raining Cats and Elves
by Veilfire Runes
Summary: In the Fourth Age, Legolas seeks amusement in the city of Minas Tirith as a thunderstorm looms. Meanwhile Aragorn struggles with the problems of Kingship and the antics of a very frustrating Elf.


Humans were certainly strange, he thought, looking out over the city of Minas Tirith. Legolas shifted a little on his perch, enjoying the warmth of the stone-tiled roof beneath his bare feet. Summer had come to the city, and with it came a pleasant heat that was all but unknown in his northern homeland - Mirkwood was far more prone to rain and chill winds, even in the height of summer. Here, there was only a hint of a breeze to take the edge off the heat and, on rare occasions when the wind came rolling in from the south, it would bring the salt tang of the sea that called to him.

He shook his head, dismissing all thoughts of the sea. Minas Tirith had proved to be interesting enough to explore; it had taken him a few days of climbing to find a roof that was not _owned_ , and still provided a good view of the daily happenings in the city. His first few choices had become unsuitable - either the people would stop to stare and point at him (Aragorn had laughed when he'd asked _why?_ ) or the people would chide him in their strangely accented Westron and tell him that he could not sit there. He did not truly understand why not, but he'd moved regardless, rather than offend them further.

The humans here were so different to any he had interacted with before, with their stone buildings and tiered city, he might almost have mistaken them for Dwarf-cousins. What sensible, above-ground being wanted to live encased in stone at night? The Dwarves could be forgiven for such things, for it was in their nature to love the stone. But humans, he'd thought, were always more akin to Elves, for the Elves had once been their teachers in all things. No Elf would sleep in a building made of stone - he knew, he'd _tried._ It was almost intolerable, the feeling being cut off from the land and the stars, only able to see the blankness of the ceiling above him at night when his heart longed for the familiar sky and nightly sounds of the woods.

But at least, during the day, it was often pleasant enough to sit in the sun. He sniffed at the wind as it brushed past him and cocked an ear to listen to the birds that followed it - yes, he was quite right, a thunderstorm was on the approach, for all the skies were clear now. Gondor's warmer climate meant more thunderstorms than he was used to, which were always an interesting experience. Perhaps this was why the humans built with stone, he realised, remembering a thunderstorm in his youth, when lightning had struck an ancient oak and nearly set the entire forest ablaze. Clever, then, to use stone instead.

Today, his choice of perch was the guard-house, next to stables used to house the horses of the nobility. It was rather higher up the street-tiers than he would have preferred, but at least no one was bothering him here.

"Lord Legolas? Sir? Excuse me?"

He stood corrected.

Legolas felt his shoulders slump slightly as he recognised his name being called. He hoped they hadn't been trying to gain his attention for too long; Gimli had always chided him for not paying attention to the people around him, but he couldn't help it, there were so many _interesting_ things to be watching!

With a small sigh, he shuffled to the edge of the roof, looking down at the figure in curiosity. "Yes?" he asked, brightening just a little when he recognised the uniform of the royal couriers that often roamed the palace of the King, ferrying messages to and fro. The boy in question, for he could not be much older than twelve he guessed (and he _was_ getting better at guessing human ages, no matter what Gimli said), looked rather awestruck. Legolas wasn't entirely certain why.

"The King has requested you attend him, my lord," the boy said, eyes wide, voice high and trembling. Legolas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What did Aragorn want of him? In his head, his brother's voice admonished him to remember his manners.

"Thank you. Please tell the King I will be with him presently."

The boy's face lit up with childish glee, unable to hold back a grin. "He said you'd say that, my lord, and told me to remind you, 'presently' means before the sun goes down, at the earliest."

He sighed again - Aragorn knew him too well. He nodded, hiding his exasperation. "Before the sun goes down then."

The boy nodded his understanding. "I'll tell him so, my lord." He bowed politely and then dashed off, leaving Legolas alone once more.

The Elf raised his eyes to the sky, shading them with a long hand to squint at the sun. There was perhaps, four hours? until the sun set. He had plenty of time then. He turned, examining the walls of the remaining tiers that lay between him and the palace. He could probably climb up to Aragorn's study in four hours. Probably.

Although, just where were his shoes? He doubted he was supposed to attend a King shoeless. His brother would likely have a conniption at the very thought.

*.*.*.*

The thunderstorm raged, all untameable winds and fury, beating at the windows with relentless rain. But for once, Aragorn son of Arathorn was not out in the rain, not sheltering in a fragile lean-to somewhere in the wilds or warming his hands by a flickering fire in a cave carefully inspected to be Goblin-free, shivering as the wind cut through clothes in need of repair.

Instead, he was in comfortable tailored clothes, sitting at a too-large desk, oblivious to the storm as he puzzled over the issues a nation presented to its King. It was times like these he desperately regretted the absence of Faramir; even now, several years into his Kingship, he was finding problems that he simply did not know how to deal with, and his closest advisor was tending to the fledgling settlement in the Ithilian forest.

Speaking of which, he sighed, glancing at the Dwarven-made clock that ticked merrily above the fireplace. A gift from Gimli on his ninetieth birthday - and currently was reminding him that Legolas was late. Again. He should have known better, he _should_ have told the messenger that Legolas was to be brought to him _immediately._ Sometimes, he really despaired of getting his friend to attend meetings on time - but then, he reminded himself, Legolas was an Elf. Elves did not measure time as mortals did. But, he argued with himself, Legolas had been the one who insisted that he wanted to assist Aragorn in restoring Gondor to its former beauty. If he wanted to help, then he would have to learn to do things on a mortal timescale.

A quiet _tap-tap-tapping_ cut into his thoughts, so soft at first, he almost missed it. He looked up, confused, glancing around the room for the source of the strange noise. The tapping came again more insistently.

 _Oh, he did not. Valar, please tell me he did not._

Rising from his chair, Aragorn crossed to the great windows that lined the room, their heavy curtains currently drawn against the oncoming night. He strode from window to window, shaking his head as the tapping grew louder. With a sigh of exasperation, he yanked the curtains open - revealing a soaked and grinning Elven prince.

Muttering curses, Aragorn struggled with the latch on the windows, until, with some unwelcome assistance from the wind outside, the ancient windows creaked open and the bedraggled Elf spilled into the room, bringing a small flood inside with him.

Forcing the windows closed once more, Aragorn whirled on Legolas, all the more infuriated by his friend's unrepentant grin. "Just what were you thinking?" he hissed.

Legolas smoothed his dripping hair back from his face, releasing another deluge onto Aragorn's carpet. Oh the maids were going to _murder_ him. He was going to be the first King in the history of Middle-Earth murdered by a _maid._ "I wasn't anticipating the thunderstorm arriving while I was on my way up. Although, it did make for a good challenge."

Aragorn seethed for a moment more, and then marched to the door, pulling it open with unnecessary force. The guards on duty outside snapped to attention, startled. "Guard. Please fetch some towels for Lord Legolas, if you would."

The guard's eyes widened, almost comically, as he spotted Legolas over Aragorn's shoulder. No doubt he was alarmed as to how the Elf had managed to slip past them - and then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Aragorn interjected before the situation could escalate further.

"There's nothing to worry about," he soothed. "I am quite safe with Legolas. But, please, towels."

The guard looked reluctant, but nodded regardlessly. "As you wish, sire."

Aragorn flashed him a grateful smile and then closed the door again, turning back to Legolas with barely disguised annoyance. But when Legolas opened his mouth to explain, a distinctly different noise broke the silence.

 _"Mew!"_

Aragorn blinked, startled, annoyance forgotten as a lump appeared under Legolas' tunic, wriggling insistently and emitting high-pitched squeaks. Legolas shifted uncomfortably, reaching into his tunic at an awkward angle, murmuring reassurances in Sindarin as he pulled out a small struggling creature.

"Is that a kitten?" Aragorn frowned, striding over. Sure enough, held securely in Legolas' grasp, was a writhing dark-grey kitten, wailing pathetically as the Elf attempted to calm it.

"I found her at the base of the cliffs, alone," Legolas explained, switching back to Westron briefly. "I looked for her mother, or siblings, but found no trace of other cats. She is too small to be alone. _Shhh,"_ he scratched the top of the kitten's head gently.

"So you thought it was a good idea to bring her up here?" Aragorn asked, bewildered. "You climbed all the way up here, carrying a kitten? What were you thinking?"

"She was perfectly safe, I told her so," Legolas said defensively, carefully setting the kitten down on the carpet. "There you go, explore, little one." He looked up at Aragorn, apparently unperturbed by the growing puddle of rainwater he was still sitting in. "She will need a home."

Aragorn pulled a face. "I am _not_ keeping a cat, Legolas. I am too busy!"

A knock at the door interrupted Legolas' retort, but stubbornness flashed in his blue eyes.

"Enter."

The guard slipped into the room, wordlessly setting down a pile of towels. Aragorn could see him scanning the room, trying to spot further intruders.

"Thank you, guard. That will be all," Aragorn prompted him.

The guard nodded, albeit reluctantly, backing out of the room. "As you say, sire. Please do not hesitate to call if you need us."

As soon as the door was closed, Aragorn seized one of the towels and threw it at the sodden Elf. "Stop ruining my carpet, at the very least, before you try to force a pet onto me."

Catching the towel easily, Legolas grinned at him, draping the towel over his head and began rubbing vigorously at his hair. His words came out slightly muffled by the thick material "I am not forcing anything on you. Just as you did not _force_ me to accept quarters here, just as you did not _force_ a new horse on me, even though I was perfectly happy with Arod-"

Aragorn waved a hand, cutting him off. "Very well, very well, you've made your point."

"And Mîth is not a pet, she is a companion." Aragorn caught a glimpse of a blue eye peeking out from under the towel, glimmering with mirth.

"Mîth?" Aragorn couldn't help the small smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. "Why do you get to name her?"

"It is just an _Epesse._ " Legolas emerged from under the towel, setting it to one side as he began to shrug out of his tunic unabashedly. "You may call her whatever you think is appropriate."

Aragorn rolled his eyes, looking around for the kitten. He was not keeping her. Not at all. Unsurprisingly, he found the tiny scrap curled up in front of his fireplace, smoke-dark fur fluffed up to absorb more heat. He knelt down beside her, scratching behind her ears. Mîth blinked up at him with huge sleepy green eyes and gave a small wail. Aragorn smiled, just a little - she _was_ very cute. And, as Legolas had said, too young to be left alone.

"Why do you not want to take care of her?" He directed at Legolas, who was trying, rather unsuccessfully, to wring out his tunic.

"You can better afford her upkeep," Legolas replied distractedly. "And I doubt she would appreciate how often I have to travel between here and Ithilian and Eryn Galen, especially since I often travel on foot."

"You do remember that you have a horse so that you do not have to travel on foot?"

"Horses do not keep well in forests. And I would think that Mîth would like travelling on horseback even less."

Aragorn sighed. "I am _not_ keeping her, Legolas."

"You say that, and yet, you are still petting her."

Aragorn blinked in surprise, only just noticing the kitten had climbed into his lap and was purring quite contentedly. And he was, indeed, still stroking her. "Arwen will not approve," he argued, but only half-heartedly this time.

"Arwen will most certainly approve. Cats are very good at reducing stress."

This was true, Aragorn had to admit. Certainly, he was already beginning to feel less stressed, the tension that had plagued his shoulders all evening slowly bleeding away. He looked over at the Elf, who had abandoned his tunic on a towel to dry, as well as his leggings, leaving him clad only in a long shirt and undershorts. He'd unbraided his long hair for once, leaving it smoothed back from his face. Somehow, despite his lack of dress, Legolas was still managing to pull off more grace than Aragorn felt he'd ever be able to.

"What were you working on?" Legolas asked, sliding into Aragorn's now abandoned desk chair, and peering quizzically at the papers. "Before I rudely interrupted."

"Accounts, expenses and such," Aragorn replied, strangely reluctant to move from the warmth of the fire and disturb Mîth.

"I can handle these," Legolas said, seizing Aragorn's neglected quill. "You relax for a moment, and you can read over it later."

Aragorn's eyebrow rose. "Are you willingly sitting down to do paperwork? Where did the Legolas I know go?"

Legolas laughed, high and bright. "Still here, I'm afraid. Just well trained in such things, much to the despair of my younger self. You can thank my very stubborn tutors later."

Aragorn gave Mîth another gentle scratch behind her ears. He was comfortable, at least, if he wasn't careful he might even find himself falling asleep. And if Legolas was handling the accounts for now...but something was bothering him. And then it clicked.

Aragorn frowned. "Where are your shoes?"

* * *

Trying to get back into the swing of writing with a couple of short pieces, sorry for the delays everyone!

Bonus: You can now catch me on the Tumblr, that I have no idea how to use, here - veilfireshadows . Tumblr .com

(Just realised my tumblr link got deleted in the initial posting, sorry everyone!)


End file.
